


Overdosing on Love

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2017 [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ed is secretly a huge romantic, Fluff and Crack, Love Confessions, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nygmobblepot Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Adapted from an Enjoltaire prompt on tumblr:In a universe where Isabella was a spy whom Edward caught, and Oswald remained Gotham's mayor, a swanky gala hosted for Mayor Cobblepot's supporters is interrupted by Jerome Valeska. Jerome has trapped the wealthy and upstanding citizens inside the ballroom and broadcasts the 'entertainment' as he releases a gas to make everyone in the room develop an infatuation with Oswald. Only one man seems unaffected: the Mayor's Chief of Staff, Edward Nygma.





	Overdosing on Love

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed my Nygmobblepot Week fics, I know I had a fun time writing them! This prompt seemed like a fun one to apply to the boys & it was _definitely_ a blast to write the infatuated constituents scene. I hope the over-the-top cheesiness isn't too painful to read :)
> 
> And for those of you who might be waiting: the bakery!au will be my main focus now. I hope to finish that within a week or two, and move on to A Storybook Story. After that, we'll see. I have a nice long list of fics to write, so I guess it'll be whatever most inspires me. Until then!

"Mr. Mayor, such a pleasure to meet you at last," the man was saying, shaking Oswald's hand enthusiastically, "I completely support what you've done with the city. Definitely more competant than that fool, James, eh?"

"Well, that's the reason I ran," Oswald answered smoothly, "I saw how far Gotham had fallen, and I didn't understand why no one was trying to turn things around. Eventually I decided that if no one else was going to step up, I might as well do it myself."

"An admirable spirit! Don't you agree, sir?" the man turned to Ed who was standing, as usual, three paces to the right and two paces behind his friend.

"Indeed," Ed inclined his head, "Mayor Cobblepot is one of those rare, decent people who, upon seeing a problem, takes action. I would even go so far as to count myself among those problems. There are few men who would have been able to see beyond what I was to what I could become. No one deserves this city's respect and admiration more than our dear Mayor."

"Truly?" the man seemed intrigued, "The more I learn about him - you - the more you impress me. It's about time we got a man as good as you to look after our city."

"I am forever grateful for your support," Oswald nodded at him, letting out a slight breath as he finally took his leave. Ed took that as his cue to take one step forward and one step left.

"I thought the line would never end. How many people could I have possibly invited?"

"I believe the final guest list came out to one-hundred, even, and if my count is correct - and rest assured, it is - only seventy-seven of those showed, albeit fifty-four of whom brought a plus one," Ed informed him, voice lowered to a near whisper.

"Good heavens. No wonder I'm exhausted."

Ed gave him a smile and Oswald felt his heart swell ever so slightly.

"You're going to have to find energy somewhere," Ed told him, "You've only gotten through the greetings. There's still eating and dancing and socializing to be done, not to mention your brief address."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"You enjoy it, don't lie."

Oswald hummed disapprovingly at him, "Maybe just a little."

Ed outright laughed at that, eyes sparkling in a way that had Oswald's heart fluttering and his stomach flipping. Fighting back the urge to blush at how utterly angelic Ed looked, he glanced away for a distraction.

"Would you mind getting me a drink? I think I'll be needing a lot if I'm going to make it through three more hours of this."

"Of course, Oswald. Anything else?"

"That's fine for now."

Ed strode off into the crowd, and Oswald couldn't help but admire how fast his long legs could carry him, how well he wore his suit, how good his -

Nope, not going there.

"Get a grip," Oswald whispered to himself and then immediately wished he hadn't as the unintentional innuendo registered.

"My, my, my, our beloved mayor, all alone. Is this to be stood for?"

He spun around, hand closing around the head of his cane as his eyes scanned the crowd for the speaker. The tone of voice alone told him that they meant trouble.

"Boo."

He jumped as he felt the word spoken directly into his ear, his attempt to whirl around and beat the man with his cane cut short as he felt cold steel pressing against his throat, accompanied by a manic - if subdued - laugh.

"Hold still, now, darling, that's it. Nice and still. I'm doing you a favor, after all. I'm not here to hurt you or threaten you, you know. I just need a l'il something from ya."

Oswald managed to turn enough to get a look at his attacker.

Not good.

Everyone knew who Jerome Valeska, lunatic extraordinaire, was. Likewise, everyone knew that he meant trouble. Oswald took a breath as he tried to evaluate his options.

The noise around them had slowly died down as more and more people noticed the hostage situation in the middle of the room. By now the room was dead silent save for the occasional giggle on behalf of Jerome.

And then one clear voice cut through the silence as sharp and as deadly as the knife on his neck.

"Release the mayor this instant, or I swear on my life you will regret this."

_Ed_.

Oswald wanted to collapse in relief almost as much as he wanted to scream at Ed to leave before he got hurt, too.

Before he could say anything, Jerome addressed him, "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you'd be joining us. So rare to see the two of you apart these days. But don't worry, lover boy, _I'm_ not going to harm a single hair on his pretty little head."

"Lover boy?" Oswald interrupted, nonplussed. Did people really get that impression? Was he so obvious in his desire that people assumed they had to be together?

"Hm? Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself. Dontcha just _hate_ when that happens?"

Not giving Oswald any time to respond, he pressed the knife in a fraction deeper, splitting the skin ever so slightly. He heard Ed cry out, but then the knife was removed and he felt something being forced over his face.

"Now be a good little mayor and keep that on. Can't have you getting drugged, now can we? It would ruin the whole show."

Oswald realized the object over his head was a gas mask and he decided it would be safer in this instance not to fight back. If the room was about to be gassed he had no intention of being hit. This way he had a chance to save Ed.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jerome raised his voice, adopting his 'performer' tone, "My lovely crew has worked tirelessly to set up some cameras, so give the viewers at home a smile," here he paused to demonstrate, an exaggerated maniacal grin on his face, "Now get ready for the most entertaining spectacle to grace your televisions since, well, _me_!"

He pulled out a vial and flicked the single drop of Oswald's blood clinging to his knife into it before shaking it up and smashing it against the floor, "Have fun, Ozzie, dear. Toodles!"

And with that he vanished, leaving a cloud of purple smoke behind. Immediately the attendees rushed to the exits, dismayed shouts rising up as they realized the doors were sealed tight.

Ed was at Oswald's side in an instant, long fingers wrapped protectively around his arm.

"We have to get out of here."

Oswald reached up, trying to use his own jacket to protect Ed from the gas, but he knew when he turned that he was too late. Ed, like most of the rest of the people in the room, was already glowing faintly violet.

That's when the effects set in.

A woman in a long, shimmery gold gown ran up to him, shoving Ed aside with surprising force and latching onto his arm.

"Excuse m- "

"Oh my dearest, sweetest Mayor Cobblepot, I beg of you, ease my pain."

"I'm sorry?"

"I long for you, Mr. Cobblepot, I burn for the feel of your hands, _please_ , save me from this misery!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. She tilted her head forward, probably attempting to kiss him, only to find herself thrown backwards. Oswald shivered with discomfort, having shoved her away as a knee jerk reaction when she'd begun to rub herself on him. But the second he turned away, he was faced with a man in a brown suit, kneeling before him, hands clasped and raised, an imploring look in his eyes.

"Ever shall the earth turn beneath my feet  
The seasons painting murals on its face  
Yet to none but your tune does my heart beat  
And at your feet I know I've found my place."

Oswald blinked. What. The. Fuck. What on earth was going on?

Another woman was before him now, offering him the string of pearls around her neck for, "I should part with anything to receive but a taste of your love."

Fingers, strong and merciless, clamped over his shoulder and Oswald spun around, afraid of who else might be begging for his attention and ready to fight them off, only to find Ed, looking quite himself.

"Oswald, it appears as though the gas Jerome released is some sort of love - well, infatuation, really - inducing drug. Everyone in the room thinks they're in love with you now."

"What? Why me?"

"Your blood, I presume. Come on, we have to get out of here before someone tries something truly desperate to impress you."

"You mean like the lady over there who just stripped down to her undwear, or are you talking more along the lines of that fellow who jumped up to the chandelier and can't get down?" Oswald asked, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Exactly. Now come on, I think I know which way Jerome used to get out."

Oswald allowed himself to be pulled along by Ed, trying to brush off everyone they passed as they showered him with gifts or praise or, much less welcome, physical touch. Ed's grip tightened almost imperceptibly around his arm as he dragged him into an alcove and shoved against the back of it, making an exclamation of triumph as a passage opened up.

"This way, hurry," he gestured, pushing Oswald in front of him as he closed off the door, "The gas will most likely wear off eventually. Better to leave them trapped until it does."

Oswald nodded, tearing off the gas mask that had been bothering him since Jerome had shoved it over his face and tossing it aside. Now that he was no longer being accosted with overzealous suitors, he caught up with his brain and realized what was off. Ed hadn't been wearing a gas mask at all. In fact, Ed was glowing purple just like the rest of them. So why did he seem to have such a level head?

_Obviously_ , his mind supplied, _because he is incapable of loving you. You've read about hypnotic suggestion and how it can't make you do something wholly against yourself. Clearly he is so opposed to loving you that the gas couldn't affect him. You should be grateful, who knows how you would have escaped otherwise._

That did not make it hurt any less. But at least, he supposed, this way it wouldn't have to be awkward. As much as he longed to see Ed looking at him with the adoration he'd received from his misguided suitors, it would have only created tension in their friendship when Ed inevitably returned to himself.

"Here, I'll drive us home, and then I'll make you some tea. You were already feeling exhausted, I imagine this has just made things worse. Don't worry too much about it, though, I already have a plan to take care of everything."

"Thank you, Ed," Oswald sighed, leaning ever so slightly against the arm Ed has offered as assistance, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He watched as Ed swallowed, glancing away, "I'm only doing my job."

"Well you do it marvelously."

Ed's ears turned pink and Oswald had to look away. He was too cute.

"Thank you," was all the reply he got, Ed's voice pitched oddly, although Oswald quite enjoyed the new sound.

~ ~ ~

"There you go, _Mr. Mayor_ ," Ed said, tone light as he finished wrapping a blanket around his friend and handed him a cup of Jasmine tea, "Hopefully you will be able to relax, now."

"I'm so grateful for you, Ed," he sighed into his tea, the temperature being absolutely perfect, "But before I relax too much I should probably decide what to do about all this."

"About all what?"

"The gas, the gala. I'll need to address it publicly."

"Don't worry about that," Ed assured him, "Jerome broadcast everything. You don't even have to work to place all the attention on him. Just say that you are deeply sorry and enraged that anyone would dare humiliate your supporters like that and that you will be working closely with the GCPD to locate and apprehend Jerome. You'll probably _actually_ have to make an appearance at the GCPD, but some sacrifices must be made. Just rest for now."

"Of course. Thank you, again, for being here for me."

"After all you have done for me, you deserve nothing less, and I am more than willing," Ed licked his lower lip hesitantly, "When I was in your position on this couch, all those weeks ago, I told you I would do anything for you. I meant it. It's my pleasure to help you, and you don't have to thank me for it."

"Well I want to anyway."

They sat in silence for awhile before Oswald's mouth betrayed him and asked, "The gas didn't seem to affect you at all. I wonder why that is?"

He froze, resisting the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, brain whirling as he tried to cover his slip. Giving a short chuckle he shrugged, "I mean it's odd, don't you think? Good thing it didn't, though."

Ed was staring at him, his eyes tracing Oswald's every movement as his jaw moved and his lips twitched but no sound came out. Finally he looked towards the fire and gave a brief laugh of his own, "Yeah, it is a good thing. I... I need to think about it, though. Maybe... maybe... " he looked as if he were struggling to find words before his eyes lit up, "Maybe I need to do some research on it! That's it! Why don't you ask me again in the morning? I'll have a better idea by then."

Oswald frowned, watching his friend, "I - Alright, I suppose."

"Yes. Good. Why don't you go to bed, Oswald. You need your rest. See you tomorrow!" He gave Oswald a quick pat on the back before rushing out of the room.

Oswald blinked, staring after him, before he began to laugh slowly. Ed was impossible when he latched on to an idea like this. Oswald would just have to wait until he was ready to share.

~ ~ ~

Oswald made his way downstairs for breakfast, mind still on the previous night. Ed would probably have a ten-page report on the mysterious gas for him when he reached the table. He hoped his Chief of Staff got an appropriate amount of sleep, and then he promptly tripped over nothing as the thought of what Ed looked like asleep crossed his mind. He needed to work on that. These feelings were getting in his way and after last night he knew there was no chance Ed returned them.

He had been hopeful when Ed had broken things off with that blonde, whatever her name was. Apparently he'd found files on himself and Oswald at her house and, heartbroken, turned her over to Oswald, asking only that, if she had to die (which she obviously did), it not be slow or painful.

But things hadn't changed and Oswald seemed to have lost all his courage (and gained an irrational fear that if he ever asked Ed to meet him somewhere again in order to confess, he'd magically fall in love with another strange woman). So really, it was time he got over these increasingly inappropriate thoughts of his.

When he reached the table, he was surprised to find Ed missing. Wondering if he would find him collapsed over his desk with exhaustion, Oswald almost missed the green envelope on Ed's chair. When he did see it, he saw his own name written in elaborate letters across the back.

He opened it with his pocket knife, eyes running quickly across the page.

It was, of course, a riddle.

_A well of memories, good and bad_   
_Of friends and of enemies_   
_Protectors of all but ourselves_   
_This place stands as our beginning_   
_Both today and forever_   
_And on this rare occasion_   
_As your duty._   
_Where am I?_

Oswald groaned. Ed seriously wanted him to meet him somewhere and he'd left a riddle instead of an address. Of course, of fucking course he had.

His duty. What had Ed said he needed to do last night? Tell the press that he was sad, of course, but a press conference, while it was full of friends and enemies, didn't seem to fit. And then what? He needed to talk to the police about finding Jerome, and -

Of course! The GCPD. Protectors of everyone except them. Their beginning forever - where they had met.

Ed wanted to meet him at the GCPD?

Well, he supposed he _did_ need to get an early start on the hunt for Jerome.

He rushed to eat and dress, calling his driver in between. He was at the police station in less than an hour, a great accomplishment for someone who took their mornings as slow as Oswald preferred to.

The GCPD seemed to grind to a halt as he entered, and he grinned. Just like old times.

"Oh, god, I don't want to talk to you."

"Good morning to you, too, Captain Bullock," Oswald greeted as graciously as he could while smirking, "I'm here to ensure the police are doing everything within their power to capture Jerome Valeska. My constituents will be wanting reassurance, you know."

"Uh huh. We're doing everything in our power to capture Jerome Valeska. How's that? You can even quote me."

"My thanks, Captain Bullock, but I'm afraid I'll be wanting specifics. And I'd like to speak with Ed, please."

"Nygma? You do know he doesn't work here anymore, right? Not since he killed a couple of cops and tried to frame our best man for it. Why the hell would he be here?"

Oswald frowned, "He led me to believe he..."

He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of another green envelope, taped to the desk where Oswald had stood during their first meeting.

Ignoring Bullock, he strode over to it, bad leg barely hindering him. Once again his name was written with a flourish on the back, although this time a smaller sub-heading could be found as well.

_I hope this isn't too close ;)_

Oswald rolled his eyes. He slit the envelope open, scanning the paper where, to his dismay, he found another riddle.

_Where Sleeping Beauty meets Eeyore's lunch_   
_Navarre's and Phillip's and Louis' kin_   
_Shall help you to your brunch_   
_Where am I?_

Okay this was even more ridiculous than the last one.

"What's that?"

"A letter, Captain Bullock. I'm sure the citizens of Gotham shall take great comfort in your observational skills."

"Yeah, whatever, Penguin."

"Mayor Cobblepot, to you," Oswald returned, "You wouldn't happen to know anyone good with riddles, would you?"

"Yeah, sure," Bullock shrugged before turning around and shouting, "Hey, Lucius, get over here!"

Oswald watched as the man he recognized as the one who wanted a back up plan when they'd turned Ed's apartment into HQ approached.

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

" _Mayor Cobblepot_ here needs some help with a riddle."

"From Mr. Nygma, I presume?" he directed the question at Oswald, who nodded. He held out his hand, "May I see it?"

Oswald wordlessly handed it over.

"It's a cafe," he said after a few minutes, "On the corner of Briar Street and Thistledown Road there's a French cafe. I'm guessing he wants you to go there next?"

Oswald sighed, "I suppose he does. Mr. Fox," he nodded, "Until we meet again. Captain Bullock, consider yourself fortunate. I'll be back tomorrow for a full report on the Jerome investigation. Good day, sirs."

"Good luck," Lucius offered. Bullock said nothing.

~ ~ ~

The cafe was honestly lovely, but Oswald was becoming increasingly frustrated. The moment he'd walked in the door, a waiter had accosted him, bringing him to a specially reserved table and serving him coffee precisely the way he liked alongside the most delicious croissant and pastries he'd ever tasted. He hadn't even ordered.

When he finally finished his third cup of coffee and all four baked goods, the owner himself emerged to speak with Oswald before handing him yet _another_ green envelope.

_I am where the cocoon shells fell._

Hardly a riddle, but Oswald managed to recall one of his earliest conversations with Ed.

"And like the butterfly," he'd said.

Kristen's grave.

The woods where they'd met.

Was he about to be murdered?

Unlikely, he supposed, but not out of the question. Perhaps Ed had discovered his feelings and was so disgusted he wanted to kill him. Or maybe Ed was just feeling nostalgic.

Either way, Oswald wasn't going to stay away.

His trek through the woods to find the right spot took him some time, but he knew he'd found it when, instead of Ed (murderous or otherwise), he found a fourth envelope, this one secured to a low-hanging branch by a gorgeous metal bracelet, gold and platinum braided with a green tinged metal, each band carved into a fanged dragon. He smiled in spite of himself and slipped it on.

However, it did not ease his irritation at the newest riddle. He'd be having words with Ed when he finally found the man.

_I face the realm where once you ruled_   
_When you were still vassal to Caesar_   
_Despite this we have never dueled_   
_Your patrons would never be seen here._   
_Where am I?_

Caesar was a nice clue, Oswald thought, relieved. Here he had no one to ask for help if he couldn't figure it out, so he was glad for the tip off. Even he knew this pointed to only one man. The Roman, Don Falcone.

Which meant the location was opposite the club Oswald had once owned. Some place the club-goers would never set foot.

He recalled an old touristy antique shop that had been across the street.

Well, nothing for it.

~ ~ ~

He didn't have to set foot inside the shop to know Ed wasn't there. Displayed prominently in the window was a soft toy penguin holding a green envelope, his name scrawled across it. A tiny bell chimed as he opened the door and a fussy old woman hurried to hand it over, clearly recognizing him.

He wished the penguin weren't so cute so he could be properly upset.

_I shall guide you to the end_   
_A place that you know well_   
_But a place that I know better_   
_Here it was I helped you mend_   
_Where now I wait to tell_   
_You what cannot be said by letter._   
_Where am I?_

Oswald frowned at the shakiness of the script, the first flaw he'd ever seen in Ed's impeccable handwriting (aside from his quickly scrawled notes, of course).

The answer was obvious enough, though, so he hurried to call his driver. He didn't know how long Ed expected his game to last, so the sooner the better.

The drive was tense and quiet, the driver long since having learned not to speak unless spoken to. Oswald fiddled with the stack of envelopes and gifts. What was Ed trying to accomplish? He wished he knew. Everyone else seemed so easy to read, but Ed remained a mystery. That was part of the reason Oswald had fallen for him in the first place. Ed was amazingly unpredictable and unpredictably amazing.

When Oswald finally reached the door to Ed's old apartment, he slid it open carefully, unsure what to expect on the other side.

His jaw dropped at the sight before him.

Ed stood in the center of the room, head bowed and fingers twitching as he clutched a bouquet of flowers in one hand and knife in the other.

"Ed?" Oswald's voice cracked slightly and he stopped to swallow, "What is this?"

Ed took a deep breath, not raising his head, "Oswald. You - you have done so much for me. I cannot even begin to repay you for everything you've done. I wish I could, but instead of repaying you, instead of being able to be thankful, I cannot help but want more. I - I want you, Oswald. I love you. I have for a long time, I think, although I only began to realize it when you freed me from Arkham and invited me into your home - into your life. That is why the gas didn't affect me. It couldn't possibly make me love you more than I already do," he paused, licking his lips nervously, "I understand that this may be very unwelcome. Uncomfortable even. But after last night I decided I couldn't let this go on. I needed to let you know, so that you could decide for yourself. I don't expect you to reciprocate, but I thought I'd give it my best effort, you know... just in case?"

He trailed off, finally looking up, his expression telling the story of a sad and lonely man clinging to the smallest hope and waiting for someone to extinguish it so that he could finally give up. Oswald was familiar with the tale.

"Ed, I..."

He watched Ed breath heavily, hanging on his every word as he willed his mouth and mind to work together for once and reassure Ed that his feelings were most certainly returned.

His instincts took charge and he strode across the room, removing the knife and flowers from Ed's now loose grasp and setting them gently on a nearby table. He took Ed's hands with his own, tracing each digit slowly before reaching up to run a finger from his cheekbone to his jaw. In a burst of emotion he tugged Ed forward into a hug, clutching the taller man to himself, their bodies practically melding together where they touched. With a hand on the small of Ed's back and another at the base of his skull, Oswald carefully lifted himself onto his toes and whispered, "I love you, too, Ed. So much. More than you can imagine. I... I had no idea you would, you _could_ ever possibly feel the same. If I am to decide for myself, then let me make it very clear: I choose you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Oswald leaned his head against Ed's neck, allowing Ed to lean down and press a hesitant kiss to his temple, "I just have one question: what was the knife for?"

"Oh, um," he could feel Ed's embarrassed pout against his skin as the man tried to explain, "I wasn't sure if you would like flowers, so I thought we could always torture somebody again. I do know we both enjoyed _that_. And I figured, maybe, if you really hated me, you might want to kill me - you know, for being ungrateful and creepy."

Oswald frowned, leaning back and grabbing Ed's chin so he could look him in the eye, "Ed, you are no such things. And don't worry, you won't ever need to defend yourself from me."

Ed shook his head, "No. The knife was for you."

He felt his jaw drop in - what? horror? probably horror - as he asked, "You would have just let me kill you?"

In response he got two brief nods, "You are ingrained in every aspect of my being. I once purged myself of who I was to become something new... I don't think I'm strong enough to do it again. Not with my mind intact, at any rate, and what am I without my mind? What am I without you?"

Oswald felt a tear sliding down his cheek as he pulled Ed in for another hug, allowing Ed to hook his chin around his shoulder as he always seemed to when seeking comfort. He lifted a hand to the top of Ed's head, petting his hair reassuringly, "I hope, truly, that you will never have to find out, but Ed? Know this: no matter what happens, you will always be my one true love. Never doubt that. Ever."

Ed drew back ever so slightly and Oswald frowned, opening his mouth to ask if something was wrong, only to find it immediately claimed by Ed's. He let the momentary tension dissipate as he melted back into Ed, letting his eyes slip shut.

For two people who despised being wrong, this was one instance where they couldn't be more glad of it. Despite their misgivings and their determination to be considered unworthy, they'd found their happy ending at last.


End file.
